Author |
Topic: The Poetry Collection (Read 761 times) |
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
 
Gender: 
Posts: 2153
|
 |
The Poetry Collection
« Thread started on: Apr 28th, 2004, 9:15pm » |
|
Inspired by Iain's poetic musings about his beloved homeland of Scotland, I have decided to create this cultural area of the fantasy forum.
In homage to iain, I have decided to feature Scotlands greatest poet, not the famous Robbie Burns, but the little known William McGonnagal.
I have decided, for your pleasure to publish here one his greatest works.
The Tay Bridge Disaster
Enjoy!!!
The Tay Bridge Disaster
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.
So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
|
|
 Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #1 on: Apr 28th, 2004, 9:24pm » |
|
If you enjoyed that one ladies and gentlespoons, i'm glad to say there's a lot more where that came from. here's another of his works for you to enjoy. What talent comes from Scotland, eh, Iain!
The Wreck Of The Steamer "London"While on her way to Australia
(they don't write titles like that one anymore do they, got a certain ring to it, what do you think. Anyway, I'll shut up now, and on with the poem......
'Twas in the year of 1866, and on a very beautiful day,
That eighty-two passengers, with spirits light and gay,
Left Gravesend harbour, and sailed gaily away
On board the steamship "London,"
Bound for the city of Melbourne,
Which unfortunately was her last run,
Because she was wrecked on the stormy main,
Which has caused many a heart to throb with pain,
Because they will ne'er look upon their lost ones again.
'Twas on the 11th of January they anchored at the Nore;
The weather was charming -- the like was seldom seen before,
Especially the next morning as they came in sight
Of the charming and beautiful Isle of Wight,
But the wind it blew a terrific gale towards night,
Which caused the passengers' hearts to shake with fright,
And caused many of them to sigh and mourn,
And whisper to themselves, We will ne'er see Melbourne.
Amongst the passengers was Gustavus V. Brooke,
Who was to be seen walking on the poop,
Also clergymen, and bankers, and magistrates also,
All chatting merrily together in the cabin below;
And also wealthy families returning to their dear native land,
And accomplished young ladies, most lovely and grand,
All in the beauty and bloom of their pride,
And some with their husbands sitting close by their side.
'Twas all on a sudden the storm did arise,
Which took the captain and passengers all by surprise,
Because they had just sat down to their tea,
When the ship began to roll with the heaving of the sea,
And shipped a deal of water, which came down on their heads,
Which wet their clothes and also their beds;
And caused a fearful scene of consternation,
And amongst the ladies great tribulation,
And made them cry out, Lord, save us from being drowned,
And for a few minutes the silence was profound.
Then the passengers began to run to and fro,
With buckets to bale out the water between decks below,
And Gustavus Brooke quickly leapt from his bed
In his Garibaldi jacket and drawers, without fear or dread,
And rushed to the pump, and wrought with might and main;
But alas! all their struggling was in vain,
For the water fast did on them gain;
But he enacted a tragic part until the last,
And sank exhausted when all succour was past;
While the big billows did lash her o'er,
And the Storm-fiend did laugh and roar.
Oh, Heaven! it must have really been
A most harrowing and pitiful scene
To hear mothers and their children loudly screaming,
And to see the tears adown their pale faces streaming,
And to see a clergyman engaged in prayer,
Imploring God their lives to spare,
Whilst the cries of the women and children did rend the air.
Then the captain cried, Lower down the small boats,
And see if either of them sinks or floats;
Then the small boats were launched on the stormy wave,
And each one tried hard his life to save
From a merciless watery grave.
A beautiful young lady did madly cry and rave,
"Five hundred sovereigns, my life to save!"
But she was by the sailors plainly told
For to keep her filthy gold,
Because they were afraid to overload the boat,
Therefore she might either sink or float,
Then she cast her eyes to Heaven, and cried, Lord, save me,
Then went down with the ship to the bottom of the sea,
Along with Gustavus Brooke, who was wont to fill our hearts with glee
While performing Shakespearian tragedy.
And out of eighty-two passengers only twenty were saved,
And that twenty survivors most heroically behaved.
For three stormy days and stormy nights they were tossed to and fro
On the raging billows, with their hearts full of woe,
Alas! poor souls, not knowing where to go,
Until at last they all agreed to steer for the south,
And they chanced to meet an Italian barque bound for Falmouth,
And they were all rescued from a watery grave,
And they thanked God and Captain Cavassa, who did their lives save.
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Iain
milk monitor
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2162
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #2 on: Apr 28th, 2004, 9:29pm » |
|
Oh I love the Tay Bridge one....
Did anyone hear it read by Billy Connolly? I think it was on his world tour of Scotland series - he did it well!
You can still see the supports from the ill fated bridge sticking out of the river - always gives me the willies!
|
|
Logged
|
Best Wishes and Happy Caravanning
Iain
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #3 on: Apr 28th, 2004, 9:33pm » |
|
I shall continue this cultural journey with a famous Yorkshire poem.....
I'll leave it to you to fill in the blanks....like the Beckaham text messages
so for you literature lovers, here goes
There once was a man from Leeds
Who swallowed a package of seeds.
Great tufts of grass
Sprouted out of his ***
and his ***** were covered in weeds!
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #4 on: May 4th, 2004, 9:39pm » |
|
I know you want more of Scotlands greatest poet, the legendary William McGonnagal so i shall oblige
The Death Of Prince Leopold
ALAS! noble Prince Leopold, he is dead!
Who often has his lustre shed:
Especially by singing for the benefit of Esher School,
Which proves he was a wise prince. and no conceited fool.
Methinks I see him on the platform singing the Sands o' Dee,
The generous-hearted Leopold, the good and the free,
Who was manly in his actions, and beloved by his mother;
And in all the family she hasn't got such another.
He was of a delicate constitution all his life,
And he was his mother's favourite, and very kind to his wife,
And he had also a particular liking for his child,
And in his behaviour he was very mild.
Oh! noble-hearted Leopold, most beautiful to see,
Who was wont to fill your audience's hearts with glee,
With your charming songs, and lectures against strong drink:
Britain had nothing else to fear, as far as you could think
A wise prince you were, and well worthy of the name,
And to write in praise of thee I cannot refrain;
Because you were ever ready to defend that which is right,
Both pleasing and righteous in God's eye-sight.
And for the loss of such a prince the people will mourn,
But, alas! unto them he can never more return,
Because sorrow never could revive the dead again,
Therefore to weep for him is all in vain.
'Twas on Saturday the 12th of April, in the year 1884,
He was buried in the royal vault, never to rise more
Until the great and fearful judgment-day,
When the last trump shall sound to summon him awav.
When the Duchess of Albany arrived she drove through the Royal Arch,--
A little before the Seaforth Highlanders set out on the funeral march;
And she was received with every sympathetic respect,
Which none of the people present seem'd to neglect.
Then she entered the memorial chapel and stayed a short time,
And as she viewed her husband's remains it was really sublime,
While her tears fell fast on the coffin lid without delay,
Then she took one last fond look, and hurried away.
At half-past ten o'clock the Seaforth Highlanders did appear,
And every man in the detachment his medals did wear;
And they carried their side-arms by their side,
With mournful looks, but full of love and pride.
Then came the Coldstream Guards headed by their band,
Which made the scene appear imposing and grand;
Then the musicians drew up in front of the guardroom
And waited patiently to see the prince laid in the royal tomb.
First in the procession were the servants of His late Royal Highness,
And next came the servants of the Queen in deep mourning dress,
And the gentlemen of his household in deep distress,
Also General Du Pla, who accompanied the remains from Cannes.
The coffin was borne by eight Highlanders of his own regiment,
And the fellows seemed to be rather discontent
For the loss of the prince they loved most dear,
While adown their cheeks stole many a silent tear
Then behind the corpse came the Prince of Wales in field marshal uniform,
Looking very pale, dejected, careworn, and forlorn;
Then followed great magnates, all dressed in uniform,
And last, but not least, the noble Marquis of Lorne.
The scene in George's Chapel was most magnificent to behold,
The banners of the knights of the garter embroidered with gold;
Then again it was most touching and lovely to see
The Seaforth Highlanders' inscription to the Prince's memory:
It was wrought in violets, upon a background of white flowers,
And as they gazed upon it their tears fell in showers;
But the whole assembly were hushed when Her Majesty did appear,
Attired in her deepest mourning, and from her eye there fell a tear.
Her Majesty was unable to stand long, she was overcome with grief,
And when the Highlanders lowered the coffin into the tomb she felt relief;
Then the ceremony closed with singing "Lead, kindly light,"
Then the Queen withdrew in haste from the mournful sight.
Then the Seaforth Highlanders' band played "Lochaber no more,"
While the brave soldiers' hearts felt depressed and sore;
And as homeward they marched they let fall many a tear
For the loss of the virtuous Prince Leopold they loved so dear.
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Iain
milk monitor
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2162
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #5 on: May 4th, 2004, 9:48pm » |
|
on May 4th, 2004, 9:39pm, phil wrote:Then the Seaforth Highlanders' band played "Lochaber no more,"
.
|
|
Lochaber no more , Sutherland no more, Lewis no more, Skye no more
Bathgate no more, Linwood no more, Methil no more, Irvine no more....
Quote from the Proclaimers 
|
|
Logged
|
Best Wishes and Happy Caravanning
Iain
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #6 on: May 11th, 2004, 8:25pm » |
|
I continue this cultural journey with England's own poet laureate Pam Eyres and her well known ode
Oh I wish I'd Looked After My Teeth
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth,
And spotted the perils beneath,
All the toffees I chewed,
And the sweet sticky food,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth.
I wish I'd been that much more willin'
When I had more tooth there than fillin'
To pass up gobstoppers,
From respect to me choppers
And to buy something else with me shillin'.
When I think of the lollies I licked,
And the liquorice allsorts I picked,
Sherbet dabs, big and little,
All that hard peanut brittle,
My conscience gets horribly pricked.
My Mother, she told me no end,
"If you got a tooth, you got a friend"
I was young then, and careless,
My toothbrush was hairless,
I never had much time to spend.
Oh I showed them the toothpaste all right,
I flashed it about late at night,
But up-and-down brushin'
And pokin' and fussin'
Didn't seem worth the time... I could bite!
If I'd known I was paving the way,
To cavities, caps and decay,
The murder of fiIlin's
Injections and drillin's
I'd have thrown all me sherbet away.
So I lay in the old dentist's chair,
And I gaze up his nose in despair,
And his drill it do whine,
In these molars of mine,
"Two amalgum," he'll say, "for in there."
How I laughed at my Mother's false teeth,
As they foamed in the waters beneath,
But now comes the reckonin'
It's me they are beckonin'
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth.
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Iain
milk monitor
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2162
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #7 on: May 11th, 2004, 8:40pm » |
|
Did you know Pam Ayers once went Caravanning?
She stayed with her parents at the glamourously named Gupies Camp in the 50's 
|
|
Logged
|
Best Wishes and Happy Caravanning
Iain
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #8 on: May 11th, 2004, 8:41pm » |
|
Why does the word anorak spring to mind 
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Iain
milk monitor
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2162
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #9 on: May 11th, 2004, 8:44pm » |
|
I expect Pamsy wore one
|
|
Logged
|
Best Wishes and Happy Caravanning
Iain
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #10 on: May 20th, 2004, 10:59pm » |
|
As you may be aware by the quality of my postings on this Forum my degree is in English Literature, so i thought i'd take this opportunity to share with you my my favourite poem!
Here goes:
On the Ning Nang Nong
On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
And the Monkeys all say Boo!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots Jibber Jabber Joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang!
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So it's Ning Nang Nong!
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning!
Trees go Ping!
Nong Ning Nang!
The mice go Clang!
What a noisy place to belong,
Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Lesley
camp warden
member is offline
Gender: 
Posts: 944
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #11 on: May 20th, 2004, 11:08pm » |
|
Am I right in thinking that you are a teacher too?
|
|
Logged
|
Online store open now! www.saucysecret.com be afraid... be very afraid 
|
|
|
Iain
milk monitor
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2162
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #12 on: May 20th, 2004, 11:28pm » |
|
The teachers on this forum - me, Mart and Philis - are so intellegent we are a bit daft 
Sad but true 
|
|
Logged
|
Best Wishes and Happy Caravanning
Iain
|
|
|
phil
head masseur
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 2153
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #13 on: May 20th, 2004, 11:34pm » |
|
And handsome devils to boot!
|
|
Logged
|
www.fantasyphil.co.uk
|
|
|
Lesley
camp warden
member is offline
Gender:
Posts: 944
|
|
Re: The Poetry Collection
« Reply #14 on: May 20th, 2004, 11:40pm » |
|
In who's opinion? Nothing like singing your own praises.
Are there any pics of the moderators on the net? Then I could make my own judgement
|
|
Logged
|
Online store open now! www.saucysecret.com be afraid... be very afraid
|
|
|
|
